Linda Ford (9 page)

When he could see the camp in the distance, he scoured the banks and caught a patch of dark indicating Ted’s position.
Good boy.

As he drew closer, he looked for Maggie. She lay close to Betsy, both sleeping. Her eyelashes drew dark half moons on her cheeks. The heat painted dull pink in her face, and her dark hair flung out like a glistening black spray. His steps faltered. She was so beautiful.

The child shifted, and Maggie sat up to check on Betsy. She saw Crane and smiled.

At the look of welcome in her eyes, his ribs clamped tight.

“You did all right.” She lifted a finger to indicate the sack over his shoulder.

“Yup.” He shrugged from under his burden. “How’s Betsy?”

“Sleeping lots.”

“That good or bad?”

“Seems good to me.”

He washed the meat in the slow-moving water of the creek. Then, ignoring the heat, he built an efficient little fire and set several hunks of meat to roast.

“Broth would be good for Betsy,” Maggie said, so he put a slab to boil.

Then he straightened. “I better relieve Ted.” He climbed the hill to the boy. “See anything of note?”

Ted shrugged. “A couple of riders headed west. They didn’t even look this way.”

“Fine. You did a good job, Son. Now go down and keep your sister company while I sit guard.”

The day passed slowly. Ted brought him food at noon, but still Crane kept watch. Once or twice he thought it might all be for nothing, but he couldn’t relax until he had seen the Johnses pass.

It was late afternoon before he heard the creaking wagon. They came into sight. Even without the noise he would have known them. As he’d told Betsy, the horse was a sorry sight. So was the wagon—the canvas torn and flapping on one side. They ambled past without a sideways look and rattled on west.

Crane nodded. He watched the trail a bit longer. “That’s that,” he mumbled. Not to say there weren’t other people they should be wary of, but he calculated the Johnses were the biggest threat they were likely to encounter for a few days, and he rejoined the others.

Betsy woke off and on during the evening and slept fitfully during the night. Crane got up several times to get her a drink or talk softly to settle her.

The next morning she sat up and said, “My froat hurts.” Her hoarse voice was proof of her distress.

Maggie fixed warm tea and fed her several spoonfuls before the child lay down and slept.

Worry made Crane’s insides stiff. He knew nothing about children and their illnesses.

Maggie met his searching look, and her expression softened. “Don’t look so worried. I think she’s some better.”

“But her throat?”

“I know. But her fever is gone.”

He looked at the sleeping child. It was true; her cheeks had lost the flush of yesterday. “Sure hope she’s better soon.”

Maggie shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait until she is.”

The enforced idleness proved difficult to bear. Ted and Crane took turns climbing the hill. Ted took Cat for a walk along the creek.

“I’ll sit with Betsy awhile if you want to go too,” Crane offered.

Maggie’s eyes lit. “I’d love to.” She gave Betsy a long look. The child slept quietly.

“Thanks, Crane.” She flashed him a wide smile.

Long after she was out of sight, Crane clung to the thought of that smile, so warm and— It felt as if she’d reserved that smile just for him. He’d been waiting for a sign from her that she was ready for more in their relationship. Was this it? He rubbed the back of his neck. Or was he grasping at straws tossed in the wind?

He had supper cooking when Maggie and Ted reappeared.

“Sorry to be gone so long,” Maggie called. “We got to talking.”

Betsy wakened and took more broth, then drifted back to sleep.

“Ted and I were talking about what it was like when Pa turned to the bottle.”

Her blue eyes blazing at him made Crane’s heart pound as if he’d run a footrace.

“I think about all Ted remembers is how afraid he was. Ma was gone. Pa was suddenly mean and unpredictable. And then I was gone for days at a time.” Her voice thickened. “I tried to spare Ted, but it was impossible.” She paused. “I will never understand why Pa suddenly turned against us.”

Crane knew much of this and wondered why Maggie was bringing it up again.

Her eyes flashed. “I was thinking about how it must have been for you. How you must have felt.” She stopped, and in the waiting silence, Crane knew she was expecting an answer.

“I don’t remember much. It was so long ago,” he murmured.

She blinked. “But you said your ma died this past winter.”

He clenched his hands. How was he to explain? “Doesn’t seem she was there all that much, then I was away working most of the time.”

Her look insisted on more.

“I can’t rightly remember a time when I had either parent.”

“How did you feel?”

He turned to stare at the fire. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“I know.” She paused. “But I think some things never let us go. For instance, will I ever really trust someone again after what Pa did? There’s a little bit of me that says to watch out when things look good. There might be a sudden stop to it all.

“And Ted. Will he always jerk back when someone raises their hand? Do you suppose that years from now, if someone hurts him someway, he might withdraw into himself like he was when we found him?”

Crane didn’t answer. How could he?

“What about you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“What about me?”

She gulped before she answered. “Do you fear getting close to people, thinking if you do, they’ll disappoint you, maybe even leave you?”

His fists balled into tight knots. “You crazy? Here I am with a wife and two children, and you say I avoid getting close.” He pointed at the bedrolls side by side. “How much closer can you get than that?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she murmured, her face filled with distress. “But that’s not the kind of closeness I mean.”

Her words stung. He had shared more of himself with Maggie than anyone before in his life, and here she stood accusing him of avoiding closeness. He shoved more wood on the fire. “I haven’t the foggiest notion what you’re talking about.” Then he stalked to the creek bank.

How could he have hit so far from the mark? Here he was thinking Maggie was as attracted to him as he was to her, that any day now she would indicate she wanted more from their relationship; instead she dealt him a vicious blow to the gut. Where on earth did she get her crazy ideas?

“Crane?” Her worried voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What?” He barely managed to keep the annoyance from his voice.

“Are you really mad at me?”

He could hear the fear in her voice. It drove the anger from him. “I guess not.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. Guess maybe talking to Ted started a bunch of fears and worries in my mind.” She gulped, and her voice fell to a whisper. “Sometimes it’s like I say, I think this is too good and something will happen to ruin it.”

“What’s too good?”

“Us. You and me and the children. Heading to a new home. All that.”

“And what do you suppose could ruin it?”

“You could get fed up and leave.”

It was the same old thing—Maggie wanting promises for happy ever after, a promise he couldn’t make ’cause he had no way of being sure he could keep it.

“Maggie, I don’t know what you want me to say or do. I’ve been a loner most of my life.” He knew she would interpret that as proof he feared closeness, so he hurried on to explain. “Didn’t have much choice. Cowboys drift from job to job. It don’t give them much chance to make long-lasting friendships. My point is, this is the closest I’ve been to anybody since”—if he said, since he was a kid, she’d take that wrong too—“since I left home to work. My point is, I’m doing the best I can.” It stung to think it wasn’t good enough for her.

“Crane.” She grabbed his forearms. She was so close he could feel her warm breath. “I am very, very sorry.” Her arms stole around his waist, and she buried her head against his chest.

With a muffled groan, he wrapped his arms around her, his face in her hair.

“Please don’t think I was complaining about anything you do. I guess I really don’t know what I was trying to say.” She paused. “Promise you won’t leave us.”

“Oh, Maggie,” he groaned, barely able to sort out his thoughts. “I don’t intend to leave. Why would I? This is the best I’ve ever known of life.”

He could feel her nodding.

They stood hugging each other, offering comfort in the most basic of ways. But Crane knew a stirring deep within. A longing for more. The urgency of the feeling, the yawning depth of the emotion it exposed, sent a shudder up his spine.

“Maybe we should get back to camp.”

Later, after they had all settled down for the night, Crane lay awake a long time. His anger had long ago disappeared; yet his mind went round and round with questions. Did he shy away from closeness as Maggie suggested? Or had she been goading him to make promises of security and happiness?

Why had he pulled away when there was every reason to think Maggie might have welcomed a kiss. . .and maybe even more?

What had she said about some things never letting us go? For the first time in years, he purposely turned his thoughts back to the time his pa left. How had he felt? But it was as he told Maggie; he could barely remember. He did remember how it left him feeling so exposed he’d promised himself he’d never let himself be open to that feeling again.

He folded his arms behind his head. Maybe Maggie was right. He cared about these people, but inside was a part of him he guarded. Put it down to experience, even maturity—a person had to keep back some portion of himself or face the threat of being destroyed.

Something tickled his nose, pulling him from his sleep, and he brushed it aside. A giggle close to his ear snapped his eyes open.

“Hi.” Betsy giggled again. “It’s morning.”

“You must be feeling better.”

“I’m hungry.”

He snorted. “You’re better.” His arms snaked out and
grabbed the little girl, pressing her to his chest. “And I’m glad.”

She giggled and squirmed out of his arms, jumping to her feet. “Come on. It’s time to get up.”

He laughed as he jumped up. “And time to get breakfast?” he teased.

“Uh-huh.”

There was a festive feeling as they broke camp and returned to the trail.

Nine

They stopped early in the afternoon at a grove of trees set back from the road. Crane unsaddled the horses while Maggie and the children gathered wood.

Later, he and Maggie lingered over coffee while Ted and Betsy chased Cat through the trees.

“They both seem to be happy now, don’t they?”

“Yeah, I reckon.” He listened to their laughter and the rustling of the leaves. Didn’t seem to take much to make them happy—full tummies and safety. “What about you, Maggie?”

“Me, what?”

“Are you happy? What does it take to make you happy?” He’d been aching to know. It festered that he seemed to have fallen short.

She stared at the fire a long time. He could tell by the way she pressed her finger to her bottom lip that she was thinking. “After Ma died, I didn’t know if I could be happy again. I learnt to take care of myself. I could find a way to earn enough money to buy my food, and I made it clear I didn’t put up with no nonsense. I was careful too. But you know—”

She was sitting a few feet from him, but now she turned and leaned toward him, almost touching his knees, her face turned up at him. The light danced in her hair and slanted across her face, and he caught his breath at her beauty. All he had to do was lift his hand and cup her chin. But he kept perfectly still, wanting something more from her, though he couldn’t say what.

She continued. “It wasn’t enough.”

It was as if his body acted of its own accord as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees so their noses were but a few inches apart. Their gazes bridged the distance until he felt her intense stare reach down into his soul and stir a cauldron of emotions.

She swallowed hard and moistened her lips. “I guess part of it was I’d forgotten about God. But I think there was more to it. I found what I want right here.”

His lungs felt like wood. His heart thundered in his ears. A silent cry called from deep inside. He didn’t know what it was he wanted or how to still the cry; all he could do was wait for her to explain herself.

“It’s this.” She circled her hand to indicate the camp. “It’s you and the children.” Her gaze returned to him. “The people I care about.”

His throat constricted for a heartbeat, then a warm feeling flooded upward. For the first time since last night he could fill his lungs without his breath catching.

“How about you, Crane?”

“Huh?” Her question pulled him from his jumbled thoughts.

“What does it take to make you happy?”

“I’m easy to satisfy. My needs are simple, my wants few.”

Happy wasn’t something he’d given much thought to in the past. About the only dream he’d ever had was to move west when he was free to go.

❧

Several days later, the sun was high in the brazen sky, pouring its fury upon their heads, when Ted, riding at Crane’s side, mumbled, “Wagon ahead.”

“I see.” He’d seen it for a mile or so. “Slow down a bit. We’ll take our time about catching up.”

It was possible they had caught up to the Johnses, but he heard no ominous screech, and two horses seemed to be pulling the wagon. Besides, it rode with a certain grace the Johnses’ wagon lacked.

Slowly they closed the distance until Crane could see two young boys perched on the tailgate. One turned to call something over his shoulder, and a man’s head appeared around the side of the wagon. He waved a greeting.

Crane could now see the two boys well enough to make out that they were as alike as peas in a pod, the same sandy hair, the same blue eyes. He was sure every freckle matched.

“Twins.” Maggie edged her horse closer to his side.

“Yup.” He couldn’t remember seeing twins before and forced his gaze away so he wouldn’t be guilty of staring.

A quick glance to either side and he knew Betsy and Ted were as tense as broncs in a corral. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. “You hold back while I ride on ahead.” He slapped the reins and trotted up beside the driver. It was a young man and, at his side, a young woman with a babe in her arms. “Howdy,” he called.

The man pulled the wagon to a halt. “Howdy. Saw you coming up behind us.” He held out a hand. “Wally Strong. Pleased to meet you.”

Crane shook hands as he made a quick assessment of the pair. They had frank, open expressions, friendly eyes, and wide smiles. He decided he liked them.

“My wife, Sally Jane.” The man put an arm around his wife, pulling her close.

Crane motioned the others forward and introduced them.

Matching faces poked out on either side of the parents, and Sally Jane laughed. “My boys, Matt”—she nodded to the one on her right—“And Mark”—she smiled at the one on her left.

Crane wondered how she could tell one from the other.

The infant squirmed, and Sally Jane sat her up. “And our daughter, Sarah.”

The little one’s eyes widened at the sight of so many strangers; then she saw Betsy and gurgled, reaching out her arms.

Betsy beamed. “She’s so sweet.”

“We were thinking about taking a noon break,” Wally said. “Perhaps you folks would like to join us.”

Crane felt everyone’s gaze turn to him and nodded. “Why not?”

Over their meal Crane asked, “Where you headed?”

Wally looked thoughtful. “I’ve been looking for land that’s good for farming.” His gaze swept the horizon. “This appeals—no trees, level.”

Crane nodded. “We’re thinking to go as far as Calgary before we look for something.”

As he talked, he watched Maggie holding the baby and talking to her. It looked so natural. Then Maggie lifted her head and met his eyes. A deep yearning stirred in the pit of his stomach. It looked so right to see Maggie with an infant.
If only it was mine.

He swallowed hard. Where had that come from? He was grateful when Wally’s voice drew him back to reality.

“We’ll be settling before that. As soon as we find land close to the rail line.”

“Wally,” Sarah Jane called softly. “Ask them to ride with us for a spell.”

He smiled at her across the clearing. “The very thing I was thinking.” He held her gaze a moment more before he turned to Crane. “How about it?”

Crane saw the eager flash in Maggie’s eyes. Perhaps it was just the thing they needed to erase the remnants of fear left by their encounter with the Johnses. “Sounds good.” He was rewarded by a warm smile from Maggie.

They hadn’t gone far when one of the twins crawled to his father’s side. “Pa, can we get down and walk?”

“Us too, Crane?” Betsy asked.

Wally reined in the wagon. “It’s fine with me, if Crane approves.”

“I don’t know.” Crane stared down the trail, pretending reluctance. “You might not be able to keep up. Or”—he rubbed his chin—“you might get lost.”

“Aww,” Betsy slumped.

“He’s joshing us,” Ted muttered, but the worried look didn’t leave his face until Crane grinned and nodded.

Whooping, Ted jumped down, and Crane tied Ted’s horse to the back of the wagon.

Ted raced down the road, shouting over his shoulder, “Can’t catch me!”

The twins barreled off the wagon and tore after him.

“Hurry, Maggie,” Betsy begged as Maggie reached around to hand her down. The child barely waited for her feet to touch the ground before she lit after them, calling, “Wait for me!” Cat raced after her.

Wally chuckled. “Could be we’ll be the ones having to hustle to keep up.” And he clucked at the horses. Maggie rode at Sally Jane’s side. Sally Jane turned to her. “I can’t help but notice the children call you by your first names. It seems a little unusual.”

“They aren’t our children,” Maggie hastened to explain. “At least not in the usual way. Ted’s my brother, and Betsy—”

“Betsy was a waif we found on our travels,” Crane supplied.

“First day we were married.” Maggie chuckled.

Crane pressed his lips together. He wished she hadn’t said that. It was like begging for more questions. And he was right.

“Really.” Sally Jane perked up. “How long have you been married then?”

“Almost a month.” Maggie’s tone said she regretted having opened the door to their curiosity.

Silence followed Maggie’s answer. Crane stared straight ahead. He could almost hear their questions.

Sally Jane nodded. “Newlyweds then. Congratulations to you both.”

Maggie murmured her thanks.

“A waif? Such a beautiful child.” The young woman shifted so she could see Maggie better. “Tell me how you found her.”

“Now, Sally Jane, it’s none of our business,” Wally warned.

“You’re absolutely right. Forgive me, Maggie.” She dipped her head to Crane. “You too, Crane.”

“ ’S’all right,” he murmured, feeling tight inside at her embarrassment. Suddenly he hooted with laughter. “But truth is—it’s too good a story to keep to ourselves.”

“Crane,” Maggie muttered. Her cheeks stained dull red.

“You should have seen her square off against—” He searched for some way to describe Bull without being indecent. He finally said it the best way he could find. “Betsy has no parents, and this man thought he owned her.”

Wally shot him a shocked look.

“Anyway, didn’t matter to Maggie that he was bigger and meaner. She marched up to him bold as could be and ordered him to drop the child.”

Sally Jane stared at him. “And did he?”

“He took some persuading.” Crane chuckled.

“I threatened to shoot him,” Maggie muttered.

Crane’s smile deepened. Despite Maggie’s uncomfortable squirming, he was afraid he’d pop the buttons on his shirt.

Then Wally chuckled too. “Bet she led you a merry chase before you caught her.”

Crane’s mouth tightened. He wondered what they would say if he told them he met her, married her, and rode out with Betsy all in the space of a few hours.

“Don’t remember her putting up much of a fight,” he mumbled and, glancing out of the corner of his eyes, saw the tips of Maggie’s ears turn bright red.

They overtook the children at that point.

“Cat keeps yowling to be carried!” Ted called.

Wally slowed the wagon. “Put her in the back.”

Ted set the cat inside, and the children dropped behind, skipping along in the dust.

They rode together the rest of the day, and by mutual consent pulled into a treed area for the night.

“Boys, gather up some firewood,” Wally told the twins.

“Come on, Ted,” one of them called, and the boys scampered away.

Betsy hung close to Sally Jane. “Can I hold the baby?”

“Of course you can.” Sally Jane patted the ground beside her. “You sit right here, and you can hold her as long as you like.”

The baby stared at Betsy, then cooed. Crane had heard others speak about heartstrings being tugged, but this was the first time he’d felt it.

He turned to Wally. “Let’s go find some fresh meat.”

“Do you need anything before I go?” Wally addressed his wife.

Sally Jane waved a hand, her focus on the baby. “You go ahead.”

They found partridges and a couple of rabbits. As they returned, the smell of wood smoke and coffee greeted them. Maggie and Sally Jane looked up as the men approached.

Crane watched the eager way Sally Jane’s gaze sought her husband. It brought a hollow feeling to his chest. He turned his eyes in Maggie’s direction. She smiled at him. It wasn’t the same intimate kind of look the other couple had exchanged, but it was warm and welcoming, and it made him want to laugh out loud.

“This is real nice, isn’t it, Sally Jane?” Wally turned to Crane to explain. “She’s been missing home and wishing she had someone to visit with.” He chortled. “Guess she’s getting tired of what I have to say.”

Sally Jane laughed. “I never get tired of you, and you know it.” Then she sobered. “But sometimes I think I’ve heard all I want about the virtues of plows and wheat and oxen.” Her eyes twinkled at her husband. “It’s nice to talk to someone about other things.”

Crane fixed the carcasses on a spit, but his thoughts tumbled over each other. He knew he wasn’t real good company on the trail, content to ride for hours without saying a word. Until now it hadn’t mattered. But suddenly he wondered if Maggie wished for better company. He promised himself he’d try harder to find things she liked to talk about.

Wally turned to Maggie. “How are you enjoying the trail?”

She seemed surprised he had asked.

Crane’s hands stilled as he waited for her answer.

“Just fine.”

Her words sounded sincere, and Crane bent over his task, pleased he had passed muster.

“Maggie’s made of pretty tough stuff,” Sally Jane murmured. “She was telling me some of the things that have happened to her recently.”

Crane perked up. Was their marriage one of the things that had “happened” to Maggie?

“What things?” Wally asked kindly.

Maggie swallowed hard and explained about her mother’s death, her father’s changed behavior, and how she’d lost track of Ted for awhile.

“Wow!” Wally rubbed his chin. “You really have been through the rocks, haven’t you?” His expression gentle, he asked, “How are you doing now?”

Crane watched the expressions play across Maggie’s face as she considered Wally’s question. “I still miss my ma.” Her voice thickened.

At the sound of her distress, Crane took a step toward her, then halted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But my anger at Pa has gone, and it’s left me able to remember all sorts of good things. We were a happy family until Ma died. I don’t want to forget that. And I especially don’t want Ted to forget.”

“You young folk have a mighty lot on your plate,” Wally murmured. “We wish you all the best.” He hesitated. “And if we can help in any way, you let us know.”

Maggie murmured her thanks.

Absently, Crane mumbled agreement. It was the first time he’d realized that acquiring two children carried such a heavy load, and he wondered if he’d grabbed himself a wild bronco. Then he relaxed. He’d always been the one to go for the rankest horse in the outfit ’cause he’d sooner have a horse with guts and spirit than a lead-footed nag. As he turned to check the meat, he grinned. Guess he was the same way about life. Somehow he knew he’d never have a dull moment with Maggie at his side.